Night Hawk'S Bride (Tyler) (Harlequin Historical Series, No 558) Page 6

  How Marie charmed him. Like stars drawing the moon across the sky, Night Hawk felt a potent, undeniable attraction. Intense desire turned his blood to liquid fire. Never had he wanted anything as much as the right to draw Marie into his arms and claim her as his.

  A dangerous need. One he refused to give in to.

  Hands trembling, he pulled a currycomb out of the second pail and concentrated on grooming the horse. Long, gliding strokes along the mare’s flank that kept him from thinking about Marie.

  But he heard the tap of her shoe on the earth and a clatter of steel against the small bucket. Marie wasn’t so easy to ignore. She gently assured Kammeo there were no more cookies in her pocket.

  He should send Marie home now, while he still could. He’d finish training the horse himself and there would be no more visits. No more temptation.

  That’s what he should do.

  “I brought something besides the cookies,” Marie said as she watched him across the span of the mare’s withers. “It’s not for you, I’m afraid. I brought some books Morning Star might like to read. You said she rides her pony over to visit you. I don’t think I’ll get a chance to see her before school starts.”

  “What kind of books?”

  “A few children’s stories about horses. I hope that will keep her excited about going to school.”

  As the wind caressed her hair and the sun graced her with fire, Marie wasn’t just beauty, but spirit too.

  One that touched his.

  Night Hawk felt his steel will melt like a candle beneath a hot flame.

  How was he going to resist her now?

  The excitement of preparing the schoolhouse was a shadow when compared to the brightness Marie felt from being with Night Hawk. She loved teaching but it wasn’t the reason she hummed as she tottered on the low stool to hang the curtains she’d made.

  “Miss Lafayette?” a woman’s modest voice broke the silence.

  The curtain rod fell from Marie’s fingers. “Goodness, you surprised me. I didn’t hear you on the steps. Please, come in.”

  Spring Rain, Morning Star’s mother, studied the desks lined in neat rows. “The children will learn well here.”

  “I sure hope so.” Marie hopped off the stool and rescued the fallen curtains. “I hope all your children will be attending?”

  “We shall see. My husband is not sure. He doesn’t see the use in his sons knowing letters and numbers.” Spring Rain hesitated in the center of the room. “Morning Star is my first husband’s daughter, Night Hawk’s brother, and so Running Deer will allow her to attend school. Night Hawk brought your books this morning. I came to thank you.”

  “I hope she enjoys them.” Marie fit the wood rod over the wooden pins, and the green gingham curtains cascaded into place. “Would you like some tea? I have cookies, too.”

  “My sweet tooth is my weakness.” She accepted with warm laughter. “Your father has done great things in this settlement. It has been hard with my people leaving. Only a few of us remain.”

  This was about Night Hawk, Marie realized as she poured two cups of tea.

  “I know that Night Hawk is training a horse for you.” Spring Rain accepted the cup and cradled it in her hands.

  “Yes. She’s a beautiful mare.” Marie set the plate of cookies on the desk between them.

  “Night Hawk is an attractive man,” Spring Rain said quietly. “He has magic with horses. His father was a great horseman.”

  Marie heard what Spring Rain was afraid to say. All of it. How Father had made things better for her people and the settlers, bringing teachers and trying to make a community where everyone belonged—whether they spoke German, Swedish, English or Sauk.

  “I won’t hurt him, I promise.” Marie spoke the words sincerely, meaning them with her entire heart. “I’m only buying a horse from him.”

  “But there is more.” Spring Rain set down her cup, the cookies forgotten. “He has known many heartaches and losses. He is alone and that is not good for a man capable of great tenderness. You may not see what I do, but you can hurt him. I came to ask that you think on what I’ve said.”

  Genuine concern filled the woman’s eyes. She nodded once and left with the whisper of deerskin and the pad of moccasins.

  Marie stood and pulled the edge of the curtain back. Four boys and a girl stood quietly in the shade of a sugar maple just outside the schoolyard. Spring Rain hurried to them, head down as if she still struggled with her emotion. The little girl with twin black braids looked up at the schoolhouse and waved.

  Marie waved back, her heart heavy. She hadn’t realized all that was at stake in this settlement where so many different people had come to make a better life.

  This surely was a place where a woman like her could fall in love with a man like Night Hawk. Without consequences. Without prejudices. Without causing harm.

  Still, the memory of Spring Rain’s concern remained in Marie’s thoughts the rest of the morning.

  “That’s right, Kammeo,” Night Hawk praised as he tightened the cinch. “Marie, hold her tighter.”

  “She’s starting to shy.”

  “Just speak calmly to her.” Night Hawk remained at Kammeo’s side, close enough to reach the leather reins in case Marie had any trouble.

  She uttered soft, soothing words that reassured the mare, who wasn’t sure about the leather thing resting on her back.

  “Good Kammeo, good girl.” Marie circled past him, tossing him a victorious smile. Her skirts swirled around her ankles, gracefully hugging her soft hips and lean thighs.

  Fire ignited into a sharp physical want. The blood thickened in his veins.

  What was wrong with him? He had better control than that. He fought it, but the drum of desire within him remained.

  “I brought tarts today,” Marie informed him as they finished currying Kammeo after her training session. “I picked the apples this morning.”

  “Mrs. Olstad let you in her kitchen?”

  “Not yet. She baked for me and complained the whole time.” Marie ran her fingers across the mare’s neck. Soft, supple fingers that stroked and caressed.

  What would it be like to know her touch? To feel the satin heat of her skin to his? A groan rose in his throat and he turned away, hauling the saddle to the stable to hide his response. Every step away from her brought him only distance but no relief.

  She wasn’t meant to be his, but still his body yearned to know her touch on his skin.

  This is crazy, he told himself. No good could come of these feelings. He wasn’t the sort of man she was looking for. He knew without asking. Allowing these feelings of love and attraction to flourish would cause him grief and nothing more.

  He’d be logical, not emotional. Sensible, and force out his physical attraction to her. That’s what he’d do.

  When he returned from the barn and saw Marie laying out her red checked blanket in his shaded front yard, all reason fled. Desire for her flared like a windswept firestorm, incinerating every good intention.

  He wanted her. The way a man wanted a woman. Fierce and sweet, fiery and tender and all-consuming. He could no longer lie to himself. Denying his lust for her wouldn’t extinguish it.

  “Meka!” Marie’s carefree scolding was accompanied by a chuckle. “Out of my basket, right now. You’ll wait for your treat like everyone else.”

  The big black dog, who was more of a loner than Night Hawk, wagged his tail and dove into the basket. Unrepentant, grinning broadly, Meka chewed and swallowed.

  “You’re proud of yourself, are you?” Marie rubbed the dog’s head as she snatched the basket from the front step.

  She knew the moment Night Hawk came into view. She could feel his presence. He was watching her, smiling, cradling something from his garden in the crook of his left arm.

  “You have watermelon!”

  “I have to contribute something to our picnic. I can’t let you bring all the sweets.” Night Hawk lowered the melon to the blanket and cut it.


  His nearness sparkled like sunlight. It felt as if they were connected like dawn and twilight, earth and sky.

  “For you.” He held a bright piece of juicy melon and she ate from his fingers.

  Marie lingered at the forest’s edge. If only she could stretch this moment and the next, then maybe their time together wouldn’t end.

  As if Night Hawk felt it too, he halted one step from the main road to the fort. “We’ll have you in the saddle tomorrow.”

  “You mean, I can ride her?”

  “She’s ready.” Night Hawk handed Marie the empty basket he carried.

  Excitement trilled through her, both at the thought of riding her mare and the man who towered next to her, dark like the shadows, proud like the ancient forest. Meka tore off into the underbrush chasing a gray jay, leaving them alone.

  Marie watched Night Hawk’s gaze focus on her mouth. In the space between one heartbeat and the next she felt her entire body blaze. He’s going to kiss me. The knowledge pummeled through her. Yes, kiss me.

  His eyes darkened as if he was tempted, and then he took an abrupt step backward. Disappointment didn’t douse the fire sparkling in her veins.

  “Tomorrow,” he said.

  The fire within her only burned hotter. Tomorrow—it was a promise and a gift.

  She pushed through the low boughs that guarded the private trail from the main road. Long shadows met her as she hurried toward the fort’s busy gate. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw only shadows but felt the heat of his gaze.

  Night Hawk feels this, too. She wouldn’t wonder and wish any longer. There was no mistaking that he’d wanted to kiss her. She was inexperienced but woman enough to know Night Hawk liked her.

  The ground felt like clouds against her feet as she rushed past the dark mercantile and noticed that it was closed for the day. Was it that late already? She lifted her skirts and ran.

  There were only two soldiers standing guard at the gates. The fort grounds were empty as she dashed through them. Her spirits fell at the sight of her father rising out of his chair on the porch. He frowned at her as if she were a soldier dodging orders.

  “I know I’m late, Papa,” Marie began the instant she was close enough. “I lost track of the time. I hope you didn’t wait supper on me.”

  “Of course we did.” Henry rose slowly. “Major Gerard came to dine with us. He’s waiting inside.”

  “Oh, Papa. Not Major—” Marie caught herself in time as a movement blurred in the shaded doorway. “Good evening, Major. My father tells me I’ve kept you both waiting.”

  “No need to apologize.” Ned Gerard smoothed a long shock of blond hair across his forehead with a hint of nervousness. “A gentleman never minds waiting for a beautiful lady. Let me take that basket for you. Were you picking berries?”

  Marie kept hold of the wicker handle. “No, I was watching Night Hawk train my new mare. She’s almost ready for me to start riding.”

  “What mare?” Henry’s voice lowered to a chill. “I distinctly told you that if you wanted a horse, I would provide you with one.”

  “I told you I bought a horse.” Marie skipped up the steps and wished just this once he would greet her with warmth and not reproach.

  Ned opened the door for her.

  “Major,” Henry growled. “Would you be so kind as to inform Mrs. Olstad she may begin serving the meal? I need a moment alone with my daughter.”

  “Certainly, sir.” The major caught Marie’s gaze with a hopeful look, one that told her he was glad to be dining with them tonight. With her.

  Henry snuffed out his cigar on the banister rail while he waited for the door to close. He didn’t look at her, but she could feel his fury. “I did not give you permission to procure a horse on your own—”

  “I don’t need your permission, Papa—”

  “But spending an afternoon alone with a man without a chaperon. I don’t know what’s become of you, Marie.” Henry’s disappointment showed in every deep line on his proud face. “I expressly told you Sergeant James will escort you—”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I don’t want my only daughter wandering the dangerous wilderness alone without an escort. I want you to marry well and you can’t do that if your reputation is in tatters.”

  “Because I want to ride a horse? There’s nothing wrong—”

  “Because you spend time alone with a man. How many afternoons have you gone to him, Marie?”

  “But you said Night Hawk—”

  “Think of what it looks like, what a false rumor could do to your reputation.” His commanding manner softened and he looked almost caring. “I could not bear it if you were wrongfully shamed, Marie.”

  If he’d been commanding, she would have argued with him. But seeing the rare and precious concern in his eyes—a father’s concern—she felt the fight ebb out of her.

  “I’m doing nothing wrong, Papa.” She laid her hand over his. “Not one thing.”

  “You are a good girl, I know that. But other people—”

  “Are other people.” Marie couldn’t withdraw her hand and end this rare moment of contact.

  Maybe she was too soft, but she loved her father. She wanted his love in return. “Fine, I’ll tolerate this meddling you’re doing tonight—and only for tonight. But I’m never going to fall in love with Major Gerard.”

  “How can you know a thing like that? He’s the right sort of man.”

  “It’s something a woman knows deep in her heart. Now stop trying to matchmake and come inside. I don’t want to keep supper waiting another moment. Mrs. Olstad is angry enough with me already.”

  To Marie’s surprise, Henry almost smiled.

  Chapter Six

  The stars blazed in a velvet black sky so bright they hurt Night Hawk’s eyes. But on a night like this, serene and unsettled, the brilliant sky comforted him. It was the same firmament his ancestors had looked to since people had come to this place of wooded hills and sweet meadows. Tonight the bear burned brightly, and the warrior stood close guard to the horizon.

  Remembering the formations in the stars brought pain and gladness to Night Hawk’s heart. His father had taught him about the heavens when he was a boy. About the turning wheel of stars and moon that guided a warrior through the forest, told a hunter when the geese would migrate, when the bear would hibernate and when trout would brim the river.

  At a time like this when Night Hawk was troubled, he could sit on the rise that overlooked the woods and lake below, where the moon blazed a path of light across the dark waters. Memories ran like a river’s current, fast and breathless and too difficult to hold on to.

  Meka nudged Night Hawk’s hand for a pat, and he stroked the dog, burying his fingers in short thick fur.

  I wanted to kiss her. Night Hawk groaned with the memory of Marie’s mouth as soft looking as a wild rose petal. Blood thickened in his veins. A need for her whipped through him until he shook with it.

  He launched to his feet, pacing through the meadow where nighthawks hunted and owls glided by on soundless wings. Frustration pounded him like wind-driven hail.

  Meka’s bark echoed across the low-rising meadow, announcing a late-night visitor. Night Hawk turned toward the road, already recognizing the faint crisp clip of a powerful gelding’s gait. The colonel.

  Night Hawk felt his stomach clench, and he knew this was no business call. Henry Lafayette hadn’t come to discuss business or request help for an injured horse. Not at this time of night. Not judging by the brisk, almost angry snap of his horse’s gait.

  Preparing for the worst, Night Hawk ordered Meka to heel and cut through the meadow. A last quarter moon cast scant light across the wildflowers waving in the breezes. A badger snarled at the edge of the clearing, where a small creek whispered a melody, and Night Hawk knew just how the badger felt.

  “Henry,” Night Hawk greeted the dark rider. “This must mean your daughter has told you about her mare.”

  T
he colonel drew his gelding up short, the man’s tension causing the animal distress, as he dismounted heavily from his saddle. “Marie is young and impulsive, but I expected better of you, Night Hawk. You’ve always been a man I can trust whenever I’ve turned to you for help.”

  “I had no intentions to harm your daughter, Henry, and you know it.” Night Hawk understood a father’s protective nature, yet he would not be intimidated by anyone. He was a warrior, a brave who’d fought his first bear at thirteen, who’d lost his father and many of his clan a year later. He’d been a man long before the colonel had set foot on this land they called Wisconsin.

  “Your daughter is no child, Henry, and I am no weak-willed man. You know well I’d never harm your daughter or any woman, white or Indian.”

  Henry drew himself up taller, his rounding middle tensing, his shoulders straightening as if ready to fight for his daughter’s honor. Seconds ticked by, marked by his short, angry puffs of breath.

  Then his shoulders relaxed. “I know the man you are, Night Hawk. I didn’t come here to accuse you.”

  “You came to vent your anger on me. A father’s anger at a daughter no longer his child.”

  “She’s a woman all right and she needs a firm hand.” Henry sighed, a long pent-up frustrated sound that made him less the imposing colonel and more a concerned father. “I shall have to lock her up in her room until the school term starts.”

  “She’d merely climb out the window. She’s a young bird spreading her wings.”

  “And she’ll ruin her reputation if she’s not careful,” Henry muttered, showing the true issue behind his anger and frustration. He marched up the dark road, dragging his gelding by the reins.

  “Her reputation is in no danger with me. You believe that?”

  “Yes.”

  To his credit, there was no hesitation in Henry’s answer, and it stung Night Hawk’s conscience. Hadn’t he been dreaming of Marie’s mouth the same instant her father had been riding down this road?

  Shame filled him, as thick and cold as a winter’s fog. Ashamed because he’d delighted in the warmth of Marie’s presence, fed her watermelon from his fingers and wanted to see her again. Hell, he didn’t want to see her. He wanted to taste her sweet lips and hold her the way a man embraced a woman.